


1001 Therapeutic Nights

by Dassandre



Series: What the Water Can Carry [6]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, M/M, Massage, Permanent Injury, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 22:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15519558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dassandre/pseuds/Dassandre
Summary: His green eyes are heavy-lidded as he looks down at his husband.  Q pushes one hand through the more grey than blond hair on James’ head, fingers trailing down his cheek in thanks.  Remy’s moans are now equal parts arousal and relief for only James knows how to pull both from Q with a single touch.





	1001 Therapeutic Nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Boffin1710](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/gifts), [AsheTarasovich (natalieashe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/gifts), [springbok7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/springbok7/gifts).



> So much of this series is filled with angst and pain that I thought a bit of love and sex in spite of the angst might be in order.
> 
>  
> 
> For three beloved friends who could probably use a bit of love amongst all the angst.

James' fingers slide out from beneath the dark, affection-tossed curls and down the nape of Q’s neck.  His hand stretches wide -- fingertips skimming the wings of angular shoulder blades -- before drawing in again to trace the bump of each vertebrae down to the swell of Remy’s lush buttocks.  James caresses one ripe globe, hefting the flesh lightly and grazing the valley between with the edge of his nails before repeating the process on the other side.

Pressing his body atop Q’s, James follows the path his hand had taken with his lips and tongue.   He scrapes the scruff of his cheek along Remy’s ribcage and smiles into the skin when his husband moans with pleasure.  Q’s hands grip the bars of the headboard, and he presses back against James’ mouth when teeth begin to nip at the lower swell of his arse.   

James’ hands have remained active whilst his mouth teases the well-travelled pleasure centres of Q’s body.  They have drifted to his left leg and while they still caress, it is far from an idle touch. His fingers knead and stretch the scarred flesh from Remy’s hip to his knee and down to his ankle, rotating joints and massaging tissue with an expertise born from necessity and honed with years of practise.   Q rolls to his back. James continues the ministrations that are so desperately needed.

Again.  

Though years old, the scars still grow angry when Q is too long on his feet.  Their choleric red a sharp contrast to the nacreous glow the candles cast on the rest of his flesh.

His green eyes are heavy-lidded as he looks down at his husband.  Q pushes one hand through the more-grey-than-blond hair on James’ head, fingers trailing down his cheek in thanks.  Remy’s moans are now equal parts arousal and relief for only James knows how to pull both from Q with a single touch.  

When pain and tension eventually ease, and he’s as flexible as he will ever be, Q kisses James deeply, languidly, and pulls back to watch James coat his cock with slick.  Q hooks both legs around his lover’s hips to pull him close. They breathe in the other’s groan when James pushes slowly inside him. Each slide and push is deliberate but indolent.  There’s no rush. No children about to interrupt. Time is, for once, theirs and though Q’s cock leaks steadily against his belly and the tension curls and builds in his gut and in his legs and in his mind, he urges James ... to go _slowly_.  

James buries his face against the curve of Q’s neck, pushes his fingers deep into Q’s hair as his hips struggle to keep the slow but insistent pace Remy has set for them.   So caught up in the sensation of Q clutching and relaxing around him and the scrape of Q’s nails down his back and biting into his arse, James is beyond words. His breath is heavy in Remy’s ear.

James leans back but brings Q with him, pulling his husband into his arms, into his lap, as he continues to move inside him.  But the shift brushes the tip of James’ cock against Q’s prostate, and Q screams out in surprised pleasure.

There is no ‘slow’ after that.  Remy urges James to fuck him hard and deep and rough.  

James obliges.

The only sounds in the room are of staccato grunts and the slap of flesh against flesh.

Then …

“James!”  It’s barely a breath.

“Remy …”  The groan is long and loud.

James hears only the retort of Q’s heartbeat beneath his ear.  Q sees only the rapid rise and fall of James’ back.

When James regains his breath, he eases Remy’s legs from around his hips to the flat of the mattress beneath them, rises, and disappears into the loo.  He returns with wet flannels and wipes down Q’s skin, but it is the heated blanket he wraps around Remy’s left leg that elicits one final groan of pleasure from his spent love.  The heat is a final palliative that will ensure his long-damaged muscles and joints stay loose rather than stiffen after their workout.

“Too good to me,” Q murmurs against James’ chest when he’s again pulled close.  “I love you.” The words are drowsy and soon Remy sleeps.

“I love you, too,” James says, smiling against the mop of Q’s tousled hair.  “So _bloody_ much.”

 

* * *

 

 

 **Word of the Day Prompt:**  
  
Nacreous (adj):  resembling nacre or mother-of-pearl; lustrous; pearly;

 

 **Nacreous** pearl light swam faintly about the hem of the lilac darkness; the edges of light and darkness were stitched upon the hills.

~  Thomas Wolfe,  _Look Homeward, Angel_ , 1929

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought of this slightly porny outing for these two idiots in love.
> 
> This was my final contribution for the 2018 007Fest. Submitted at 10:08 pm MDT.


End file.
